Here come the Secret Service

How dare they look at me under a microscope,
How dare they intrude upon my home,
Judging and jumping to conclusions,
Intentions planned ahead,
They don’t believe me,
There’s nothing wrong with me,
Why won’t anyone listen?
Because they can’t see my scars,
My deep, dark wound inside weeping,

I was pushed to seek help,
So I did as they said,
Now feel worse than before,
And I wish I was dead,
As they delve into ever corner,
Are you thinking of harming your children?
Are you hearing voices?
F**k me I’m not saying anything.

So now they’ve left a recorder in my home,
Coming to collect it tomorrow,
When they bring me spiteful medicine,

For I am so fragile, none of you see,
Those promises of phone calls that don’t ring true,
Don’t you know it cuts my throat, when you forget me?
I cling to that hope that you’ll steer me right,
Only you don’t have time for me,
More people worse off than me,
If I was to get cancer or my husband drop dead,
Maybe then you’ll take notice of me instead?

So do I join the queue with others like me,
Or shall I die with dignity?